


The Boys of Summer

by stubliminalmessaging



Series: Shameless (US) A.U.gust [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sexual Content, Summer Camp AU, ian is a counsellor, ian is like 18 and mickey is like 16, lotsa gay touchings, mickey is a camper, underage sex in chapter 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:25:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2147202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/pseuds/stubliminalmessaging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer camp was bullshit and so was Mandy for ditching Mickey for her friends - but it could be worse, he supposed. He could have someone other than Ian Gallagher as his cabin's counsellor, and that would really make his summer intolerable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magneticdice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticdice/gifts).



> hey friends! this is an au that was prompted from me by Tanya (magneticdice) who's been kind of helping me work through the plot and stuff. hopefully she likes it and everyone else does too!

Not for the first time Mickey wondered why the fuck he was here. Usually he was only forced to do shitty things like this because of how awful his parents were, but for a change their negligence had landed him somewhere “good.”

The summer camp his parents sent him to served the purpose of keeping him out of their hair for four and a half months. It had some dumb Indian name and it was basically the ultimate collection of clichés all at once. Big foresty lake with a dock to launch canoes off of, an archery range, several campfire pits for people to hold hands and sing fucking Kum ba Yah under the fucking stars or some shit. There was a mess hall and a bunch of cabins and a bathroom for each gender.

It was really fucking lame and Mickey would sooner have stayed at home getting high and not getting laid all summer than spending it with these fucking losers. The only saving grace was that Mandy was stuck there with him.

-

He had to give it to Mandy with her optimism. She was babbling nonstop the night before their departure as they packed their things. Mickey thought he had done it but Mandy tore his bag open and called him a fucking idiot and insisted of repacking for him.

“Angie’s going,” Mandy said. Mickey didn’t comment as he turned his attention to readying his bong. “And Gina and Brianna. I think Carla’s going too but she’s been kind of bitchy to me lately so I might not talk to her at all.”

“Bullshit,” Mickey said, coughing a bit on the smoke after his first toke. He offered the bong to Mandy and she, surprisingly, turned it down. “Don’t they have jobs or some shit?”

“Guess not,” Mandy shrugged, shoving a couple more t-shirts into Mickey’s bag and then zipping it up. She pushed it off the end of her bed and it hit the floor with a thump. Then she hauled her own bag to the center of the bed and began laying out her clothes and fuck, Mickey was bored, but he wasn’t bored enough to stand around and watch this.

“None of your friends are coming and it’s gonna be really fucking lame,” Mickey said in parting, wandering out of Mandy’s room. She yelled after him to go fuck himself and he thought, not a bad idea. It’s not like he’d have the privacy to have a proper wank in the stupid cabins and there was no way he was gonna let some loser from camp fuck him.

-

Funny how he’d eat those words for breakfast after he’d met Ian Gallagher. They’d gotten dropped off by their oldest brother and promptly separated, Mandy sent off to the girl cabin and Mickey to his. He lugged all his shit and shoved it under his bed, unrolling his musty-smelling sleeping bag and punching his pillow into a shape conducive for moping.

He flopped on his bed and stared at the graffiti on the underside of the bunk above him when the door opened and the redhead strode in and ruined his life.

It was just his head at first, stuck in through the cabin door. He leaned in further when he spotted Mickey, clearly not expecting to find anyone there. “Hey!” he chirped, and Mickey fooled himself into thinking it was dumb and pretended he was annoyed. The guy invited himself in closer to the area around Mickey’s bunk. “You must be Mickey Milkovich!”

Mickey barely spared him another second’s glance before he turned his attention back to the oh-so-fascinating bunk above him. He was mostly concerned that he’d be caught staring. He didn’t have much time to think on it because there Ian was, standing over him and leaning on the bunk above him.

“Not a talker. Alright,” he said, grinning sheepishly like he was the one who should be embarrassed. Mickey hated and loved that look in equal parts. “Just thought I should introduce myself double time since I’m the counsellor for this cabin and I’m your bunk buddy.”

Mickey fought down the flush at the thought of the redhead above him. This was more literal and less enticing than what his mind provided him with of course, but he tried not to let it show.

“I’m Ian,” he went on, then laughed. “But I guess I don’t need to tell you that – my name tag is on my bunk and you probably already read about me in your cabin welcome package.”

“Sure I did,” Mickey mumbled, really wishing Ian would leave him alone. He was hot as hell but way too energetic for Mickey. Or at least that was what he told himself.

Ian hovered there grinning down at Mickey. It was hard to scowl with this goof doing what he was doing but Mickey managed. “Need somethin’ else or would you kindly fuck off?”

“Come outside,” Ian said as if Mickey hadn’t just said what he’d said. “A bunch of the other guys from this cabin are out playing volleyball on the beach. I bet they’d love to meet you.”

“Not fuckin’ likely,” Mickey snorted. When Ian stood there looking so damn hopeful and earnest, he added, “I’m tired, man. Gonna go to sleep.”

“But then you won’t sleep tonight,” Ian protested.

“Do I look like I care?” Mickey asked as rudely as possible.

“Alright, well, you’re clearly not in the mood for anything so I’ll see you later. Since you won’t be sleeping tonight maybe we can go for a nighttime run?” Mickey rolled over and put his back to Ian and the redhead finally went on his way. “See you at dinner! Hamburgers and hot dogs and mac n’ cheese. I’ll save you a seat.”

Mickey didn’t roll back over onto his back until he heard Ian close the door behind him. Hell yeah he’d be going to dinner (mac n’ cheese, _come on_ ) but he’d sit with Mandy and not some hot dumb ginger. That’ll show him.

-

That didn’t show him. That didn’t show him at all. All it showed him was how much of a loser Mickey was and how he had no friends.

He got his tray full of food (double scoop of mac n’ cheese ‘cause he was late and there was a little bit of extra after everyone else got their food, fuck yeah) and went to find Mandy. He scanned all the mostly-empty tables and didn’t find her – so one or two of her friends did show up to this shit-show. He hoped one of them wasn’t Angie because she hit on him aggressively and he couldn’t exactly tell her she was barking up an incredibly gay tree.

Mickey finally found Mandy and he felt like such a huge fucking tool when he did. He wished he’d been quicker to react, because he stood floundering at the end of the table for too long for anyone to think he’d been planning on sitting anywhere else. Turns out all of Mandy’s friends had come, even Hannah who Mandy had said was being sent to Bible camp after her abortion. With all of Mandy’s friends in attendance, there was no room for Mickey.

He turned and took his tray off to find another table way too late. Mickey barely heard Mandy shout ‘sorry, Mick! You shouldn’t be such a miserable asshole!’ over the giggling of her friends.

Mickey would almost rather sit alone than sit with Ian and the other guys in his cabin but he felt like such a loser already that he didn’t need to add more fuel to that fire. So he slunk into the last remaining seat at Ian’s table, and he was a charismatic likeable enough guy so there was no way his seat could have been empty unless he’d saved it especially for Mickey. What a big ball of gay Gallagher was.

Fortunately he was so busy, chatting with someone else and facing the other direction that he didn’t notice when Mickey slid into the seat next to him and started eating. Ian noticed Mickey when he’d finished his burger and started on his hot dog.

“Mickey!” he exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up when he finally spotted Mickey. Of course he caught the younger boy with a mouthful of wiener and this was how he introduced Mickey to the group of other guys he’d be bunking with for the summer. Various hellos were fired at him and he grunted in response, since they were all well and truly douchey and didn’t interest him in the least.

Not for the first time and definitely not for the last, Mickey wondered what the fuck he was gonna do all summer. With Mandy occupied by her friends, he was a friendless loser and she would have been the only thing to make this camping experience tolerable.

But the more he stared at Ian out of the corner of his eye, the more he started to come around to it. What would he do by the end of this gay-ass summer camp? He’d do Ian.

-

It took Mickey three days to get into his first fight and it was over something really stupid, too. Or at least after the fact it seemed stupid. When he was eating his dinner and some kid from the next cabin over with an obvious death wish tried to snatch his cup of Jell-o off his tray while he wasn’t looking, it seemed like a perfectly appropriate reaction.

He’d been talking to Ian, just shooting the shit and letting Ian try and convinced him to do more activities during the day instead of wandering around and cussing out anyone who tried to talk to him. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw the guy reach over his shoulder and snatch the cup of Jell-o from in front of him.

He ducked out of the conversation and grabbed the fucker – he didn’t even know the guy’s name but he knew he hated him based on this interaction – by the wrist. He squeezed until the tats on his knuckles stood out against his blanched skin and the guy dropped the cup of green Jell-o onto the table with a clatter. He hadn’t even had a chance to start opening it and that was a good fucking thing since Mickey would strangle him with his own fucking intestines if a single dent was left in surface of that perfect cup of green Jell-o that was rightfully bestowed upon him.

“Fuck, Milkovich, what’s your problem, man?” the kid whined, yanking his wrist free of Mickey’s grip and rubbing where he’d gripped it. “Christ, never pegged you for a dude who’d turn into a little bitch over a fucking cup of Jell-o.”

One second Mickey was on his feet and the next his fist was smashing into the kid’s jaw with a crunch. He went down hard and Mickey only got in a couple good kicks to the kid’s ribs before Ian hauled him back, kicking and spitting profanity. Nobody called him a bitch.

He settled down quickly when he was locked tight against Ian’s chest by his long arms. The tension drained out of him when Ian’s voice was there, speaking softly into his ear. “You shouldn’t have done that, Mickey.”

Mickey shoved Ian off himself with as much effort as he could muster and he tried not to get too embarrassed as one of the senior counsellors scowled down at him and told him he’d serve six hours detention. The other kid got half an hour for taking the Jell-o from Mickey and for how he spoke to him, and the counsellor gave them both a couple lines about this being a safe place and about this infraction being strike one. Mickey might have argued it but he was done getting spoken down to and he didn’t want any more attention on him so he just nodded and mumbled an acknowledgement of his punishment.

When he got to the storage shed like he’d been told to during his free period the next day, he couldn’t help feeling a little relieved. He honestly couldn’t be too upset when he was serving six hours of detention with none other than the absolute hottest redhead walking the earth. It seemed like Mickey’s summer camp experience was about to get a whole lot more interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops this took a long time. sorry!

                If the camp counsellors, as a collective unit, had wanted to punish Mickey with detention, they really should have assigned him any counsellor other than Ian. They figured he’d be hard to rein in and this being his first detention, they’d let him off easy and gave him a counsellor he didn’t outwardly hate. Dealing with less-than-cooperative kids should have taught them that kids like Mickey only responded to punishment if it was something that they actually didn’t want to do. You can’t kill a Milkovich with kindness. Unless you were sucking his dick or something, but that would happen soon enough.

 

                Mickey could deal with this in the meantime, though. He’d had his detention right after lunch and the usual cleaning staff had been assigned to do something else, leaving the piles and piles of dirty dishes for them. Truthfully, Mickey hated doing dishes (chores in general, actually) but it was way better when he did them with Ian.

 

                “So where are you from?” Ian asked. He passed Mickey a plate and the boy attacked it with a towel then set it on top of the pile he’d started.

 

                “Chicago,” Mickey replied and Ian laughed, elbowing Mickey’s side playfully.

 

                “Well yeah, I knew that much. They give us that much information before you moved into my cabin,” Ian said, grinning cheekily. Basically, Mickey hated that smile.

 

                “What part? I’m from Chicago too.”

 

                Mickey’s heart raced. He knew what would come next. “South Side,” he replied, bracing himself for the inevitable disgust. Actually, knowing Ian and his too-fucking-nice attitude towards everything, he’d mask it and Mickey would probably be able to see the distaste in his face. He kept his gaze firmly glued to the plate he was working on, thoroughly dry as it was.

 

                “No way!” Ian exclaimed, smacking with Mickey with one of his yellow rubber gloved hands. It left Mickey’s shirt sleeve all wet and sudsy. “No fucking way! I lived in the South Side with my half siblings until I was ten!”

 

                “For real? What’s your last name?” Mickey asked. There were a lot of poor families in his neighbourhood but if they’d lived there for any amount of time he probably knew a little about them. At the very least, most people in the neighbourhood knew about him and his family. Mickey hoped Ian wouldn’t recognize his family name now that he realized they were from the same neighbourhood. His family was well-known, but not for anything good.

 

                “Gallagher,” Ian replied. “My siblings live in a big house on North Wallace.”

 

                “Bullshit,” Mickey sounded genuinely surprised. His eyebrows shot up. “Your sister used to run a daycare in the summer?”

 

                “Yeah,” Ian replied, grinning as he thought of the no-doubt fond memories. “We had to clean so many poops out of our pool.”

 

                Mickey laughed and Ian gestured with a sponge for him to take his pile of dry plates and put it away. Mickey did as he was told, taking the pile and grunting a little under the weight. He carried the plates across the room and bent down to put them in a low cupboard. When he got back up he watched the redhead scramble to pay attention to the dishes in the sink again. Mickey smirked to himself as went back to dry the dishes on the rack.

 

                He couldn’t keep his grin completely off his face as he went back to helping Ian with the dishes. Fucking Gallagher. Flirting with him and checking him out and trying to pretend he wasn’t. What an asshole.

 

                Mickey hadn’t thought much about his eventual goal to get some dick from Ian but based on his actions just then things looked favourable for it. It was way easier to try and fuck someone who played for the same team after all. Now that he actually thought about it, it should be full speed ahead after that but of confirmation but for whatever reason Mickey couldn’t bring himself to turn on his filthy fucking mouth and talk his way into getting bent over the kitchen counter.

 

                He just laughed and smiled and watched Ian smile and laugh. What he felt about it was weird. Like the whole time he spend serving his detention talking to Ian and sharing stories about life back home and that that was fine. He’d never actually wanted to _talk_ to a guy before.

 

                He stubbornly avoided thinking about what that might mean.

 

                Once that was aggressively shoved to the back of his mind he continued to enjoy the time he spent with Ian. They finished the dishes and started cleaning the rest of the kitchen, and it wasn’t until another counsellor came in to look for Ian that they realized they’d gone half an hour over time.

 

                “Oh!” Ian laughed. “Didn’t realize it. Sorry. You need me at the rock climbing wall?”

 

                “Yeah,” Denisha, the dirty blonde girl who counselled one of the girl cabins on the other side of the other side of the came chirped. “See you in five?”

 

                “Sure!” Ian replied.

 

                Mickey felt incredibly awkward standing there. Ian and Denisha had an easy back-and-forth and there he was, floundering in the valley between them. He was still feeling a little overwhelmed, reeling in the waves of Ian’s charm.

 

                Denisha said she’d see Ian in five and then left them. Mickey still couldn’t shake the awkward feeling and he wished so badly that Denisha had never interrupted them. But could they be interrupted when they had nothing going on between them?

 

                “I have to go now,” Ian told him. “And campers aren’t allowed back here without a counsellor, so I’ve got to kick you out too.”

 

                “Yeah, whatever,” Mickey shrugged. He stood there for another moment before he abruptly turned on his heel and fled, peacing the fuck out of there before it got any weirder.

 

-

 

                The next time Mickey picked fight may have been a bit on purpose. It was pretty basic – acting up resulting in detention (probably with Ian) which was hanging out with the hottest redhead ever which was priority. Plus he could definitely think of worse prices to pay to hang out with Ian than punching a few fuckers in the face.

 

                So he did what he had to do – throttled who he had to throttle, really – and faced his sentencing, scowling and pretending to be scorned. He got only three hours this time since the guy fought back but he was satisfied with it. He wouldn’t get anywhere by getting kicked out of camp, after all. So he had to toe the line between too much and not enough.

 

                He reported to the bathroom that he’d been assigned to the next morning. He prepared to turn on the charm as soon as he was alone with Ian, coming up with some cheesy line to make Ian laugh and warm him up.

 

                “What the fuck?” he groaned, and Matt, the annoying twinky-looking fuckboy from next door greeted him loudly.

 

                “I can see you’re annoyed, and that’s fine. Detention sucks, I feel that. But you might as well get it over with so you can enjoy the rest of your day, right?” Matt asked, standing there like an idiot holding the bucket.

 

                “Nope, I’m your assigned supervisor for today,” Matt said, shaking his head and Mickey hated the stupid floppy brown curls that swayed with each movement. “Ian’s got archery.”

 

                “But he’s my cabin’s counsellor,” Mickey protested. “Doesn’t that mean he’s responsible for me or some shit?”

 

                “Please don’t swear around me,” Matt said, hovering in the doorway of the changeroom which connected the toilets and the shower stalls. “C’mon. We’re cleaning the showers today. You see the mold there? Can you spell ‘foot fungus’?”

 

                Mickey rolled his eyes. He dropped the bucket and stormed out, stomping off to chain smoke behind the shed. He’d need to slow down or he’d run out of the smokes he’d smuggled in before this shitty camp ended. He’d go crazy without some chemical or another to relax him through this amount of mind-numbing bullshit.

 

-

 

                He got in trouble for that too (of course) and got slapped with more detention. The next time it wasn’t with Ian and he cut up again, making a huge-ass mess while he was supposed to be painting a shed. He couldn’t reach the top of the damn shed anyways and he wasn’t getting on a damn ladder, so who could blame him? It was bullshit detention and Brad, the counsellor who had been assigned (sentenced) to supervise him, admitted it.

 

                Brad locked up the paint once they were done (Mickey had stayed around to serve his time and Brad had let him just sit around since he clearly wasn’t in the mood to cooperate) and Mickey broke into the shed and later that night. He got caught painting a huge dick on the side of Brad’s cabin and got handed another few hours.

 

-

 

                Once it became obvious that since Mickey’s parents had paid for him to attend camp to the end and that they couldn’t send him home unless he did something _really_ serious, he stepped up his game. He got thrown in detention again and again and again and continued to make every counsellor who wasn’t Ian miserable.

 

                One Tuesday, about two weeks into his summer camp experience, he walked into the kitchen of the mess hall to find Ian waiting there for him.

 

                “Hey,” he said, trying not to grin like a total dork as he slouched into the room.

 

                “Hey yourself,” Ian said. He looked like he was trying as hard as Mickey was not to grin and doing a shit job of it.

 

                They spent two hours cutting up fruits and vegetables and then another hour cleaning the disaster that was the walk-in freezer. Mickey behaved himself and did as he was told and didn’t so much as scowl at Ian the entire time.

 

                Before they parted when Mickey’s time had been served, Ian told him to stop cutting up and getting himself in detention.

 

                _Fat chance of that_ , he thought, but told Ian ‘whatever’ before he took off.

 

-

 

                The next day he got a couple hours since he’d been caught smoking by the pond by a bitchy counsellor named Kylie. He was immensely pleased with himself when he saw that the staff had apparently given up on teaching him any lessons and had gone for the easiest option for them instead.

 

                Gardening was super gay and he ended up with the worst sunburn he’d ever had, but weeding the camp garden for two hours was alright when he got to hang out with Ian the whole time.


	3. Chapter 3

                It was during a dinner with Ian and the rest of his cabin, when Mickey as looking at Ian’s stupidly shiny orange hair and the freckles brought out by the sun and those disgusting biceps he had that ere nothing short of _on display_ in his sleeveless camp shirt. Ian mentioned a really awesome pizza place in Chicago and he could see himself going there with Ian. Warmth spread through him at the thought and once he realized his feelings he choked on his spaghetti. Up until then all of his daydreams about Ian were hot and raunchy and he’d thought he only wanted Ian for his body. This pizza vision looked too much like a date – and if there was one thing Mickey Milkovich didn’t do, it was dates.

 

                The goal with Ian was to hit it and quit it, not to grow a vagina and become chocked full of feelings. He had to put a stop to this shit quickly. He wasn’t ready to get that dick just yet, but he needed to avoid these feelings and this growing crush, which meant he’d need to avoid Ian until he got back to his senses.

 

                _After dinner, of course_ , he thought as Ian’s smile lit up his very soul.

 

-

 

                As sound and manageable as Mickey thought his plan was, it was definitely easier said than done. In a cosmic ‘fuck you’ from the universe, it seemed like as soon as Mickey started denying his crush, Ian was sexier than ever and so sweet it hurt.

 

                When his parents had signed him up and registered him for activities the only one he didn’t hate was archery. He got to shoot stuff and look totally badass while doing it. In theory it was the perfect elective for him, but it wasn’t until he got to the range and got a bow in his had that he discovered that it was harder than that stupid girly Middle Earth elf had made it look.

 

                He tried switching arms and took all the advice the instructor gave him but only succeeded in skinning the inside of his forearm with the bowstring and nearly crying with how much the friction burned. The session ended and the instructor sent him off to do something else but later on in the day, during Mickey’s pre-dinner free time he went back to the range to try and figure out what he was doing wrong. His fingers were sore and his arms ached but he wouldn’t give up. He didn’t have much of a problem giving up on most other things, like school or becoming a productive member of society, but for whatever reason archery was just something he couldn’t let go of. It was just so _badass_ and he felt a weird amount of determination to learn how to do it.

 

                He loosed an arrow and then took a break, wandering back to the shed where all the equipment was kept. He nearly turned tail and ran when he saw Ian leaning against the shed in probably the most unintentionally sexy pose ever created.

 

                “Hey!” Ian greeted him, swinging his keys on his lanyard and opening the shed so Mickey could put his bow and his bolts away. “Archery? How’s that?”

 

                “I-It was okay,” Mickey said, coughing to clear his throat and to cover the break in his voice. “Bit rough. I’m no Robin Hood.”

 

                “Yeah? You want some help?” Ian asked.

 

                Mickey narrowed his eyes. “Are you any good?”

 

                “I don’t like to brag, but...” Ian said, grinning. He went into the shed and got out a bow for himself – the next size up since he was taller than Mickey and had such long arms. He grabbed a half dozen arrows too and led Mickey back to the range.

 

                “I gotta go,” Mickey insisted when Ian told him to fire off a bolt so he could see what he was doing wrong. Mickey didn’t want a hot cup of embarrassment today, thank you very much.

 

                “Just one,” Ian said, coaxing. “C’mon, are you afraid of unleashing the guns? ‘Cause I promise, I can handle it.”

 

                Ian’s goading did the job and Mickey clumsily nocked a bolt and loosed it. Mickey watched the bolt sail wide past the target and land at an angle in the grass. A wave of shame washed over him and Ian didn’t say anything for a minute.

 

                “Alright,” he eventually said. “Okay. That was... you’re definitely not the worst I’ve seen.”

 

                “Oh, fuck off,” Mickey snapped. “I’d like to see you do better.” He’d like to see Ian do a lot of things.

 

                “You asked for it. Watch and learn,” Ian said, before he proceeded to get into hardcore Legolas mode. Mickey watched in awe and a fair bit of arousal as Ian lurched to the side and dropped into an abrupt roll. He tumbled onto one knee and took another shot. Mickey’s jaw dropped when Ian pinned him with a stare and loosed a final bolt without look and hit the target in the center.

 

                “Holy shit, you’re that chick from the movie _Brave_ ,” Mickey said and Ian smirked, getting to his feet.

 

                “So will you let me try and teach you?” Ian asked, eager despite thoroughly blowing Mickey’s mind. “Just like ten minutes, I promise. I just wanna show you a couple things.”

 

                “Fine,” Mickey huffed, so as to get it over with sooner. He regretted his word instantly though, since Ian set his bow down on the bench and moved in close behind Mickey. He reached around Mickey’s body and tried to move his arms into position.

 

                “You’re gonna have to help a little and actually hold up your bow,” Ian teased and Mickey nearly knocked the wind out of him with his elbow as he lifted his bow. “Alright. Get an arrow and nock.”

 

                Mickey did that, hands shaky, and Ian probably thought he was being encouraging and helpful when he placed his hands overtop of Mickey’s on the bow and the fletching. He just made Mickey feel like he was going fuck shit up even worse. He hadn’t thought it possible.

 

                “You gotta keep your arm steady,” Ian told him, so soft Mickey barely resisted shuddering. When he spoke next his lips brushed Mickey’s ear. He did his best to do as Ian told him and when he loosed his next arrow it struck the edge of the target. Much better than all of his other attempts and Ian let him know. Mickey’s knees felt weak when Ian murmured; “Yeah, like that. You’re doing lots better already.”

 

                Ian prompted him to take another shot, but hearing Ian say ‘yeah, do it again’ with his breath hot on Mickey’s ear and his body warm and firm against his back was more than Mickey could take.

 

                “I’m done for today,” Mickey stammered out, lowering the bow and stepping away from that oh-so-tempting body. “My hands hurt.”

 

                “Alright. Hit it again tomorrow. You’ll only get better with practice,” Ian told him. He took the bow from Mickey’s clumsy fingers. “I’ll get the arrows and put his gear away. See you at dinner?”

 

                He rounded so hopeful and Mickey mumbled ‘yeah,’ before he left Ian there. He beat Ian to the mess hall and got his dinner and by the time Ian got there he was just finishing up.

 

                “Hey!” Ian said, sinking into the next to him.

 

                “Later,” Mickey said, getting up and going to deposit his dirty dishes in the bus bucket at the end of the hall.

 

-

 

                “What was with you at dinner?” Ian asked when he went back to the cabin to talk to his bunkmate. Mickey stayed rolled over on his side, stubbornly keeping his back to Ian. Ian leaned on the back and looked at Mickey. “Are you mad at me?”

 

                He let the silence between them fester for a few moments before he continued talking. “Wanna go swimming tomorrow? It’s supposed to be hot as balls tomorrow so I figured we could hang out by the lake.”

 

                Ian kept rambling about activities to do on the lake and Mickey took a moment to picture it. The more he pictured it the more he knew he thanked God that he was facing away from Ian because his dick definitely liked the idea. He couldn’t go to the lake with Ian when he couldn’t keep his penis under control.

 

                “So are we on for a day at the lake?” Ian asked, so earnest and concerned for Mickey’s well-being.

 

                “No fuckin’ way. You seen me lately? Ten minutes topless in the sun and I’ll look like a fuckin’ lobster.” Mickey said, voice muffled by his pillow. Ian was silent and Mickey could picture the kicked-puppy look of disappointment on Ian’s face, so he kept talking. “Got any other ideas?”

 

                “...what?”

 

                “I’m bored. You’re all about doing activities and shit so come up with something for me to do.” Mickey could practically hear the gears whirring in Ian’s head so before he could get any ideas in that pretty ginger head of his, he said; “Nothing that involves third degree sunburns.”

 

                “We could slather you in sunscreen,” Ian suggested. “I mean I’m a ginger and I still go out in the sun. I’m sure my SPF 600 sunscreen will create an ultraviolet forcefield that might even make you glow in the dark.”

 

                Mickey snorted. “You’re fuckin’ deranged, Gallagher.”

 

                “If you say so. What do you think?” Ian placed a hand on Mickey’s side and shook him playfully but Mickey tensed up, feeling lit. “We could do a liberal application of sunscreen before we go out and some proactive aloe action after we get back. You do me and I’ll do you?”

 

                Mickey _really_ couldn’t take that, so he just shrugged. “I’m not really much of a swimmer.”

 

                “Okay, uh...” he paused, then squeezed where his hand rested on Mickey’s side. “I play guitar. You wanna learn?”

 

                The first image Mickey got of learning guitar from Ian was similar to the experience of learning archery from him. He saw himself sitting between Ian’s legs with the redhead’s arms around him, hands over his. He corrected Mickey’s finger position and sung love song quietly in his ear.

 

                He definitely couldn’t do that.

 

                “Not much of a guitar guy,” he rolled over on his front and looked sideways at Ian. “Can I think it over tonight  and get back to you tomorrow?”

 

                “Yeah!” Ian said, thrilled that Mickey was properly acknowledging him. “Yeah, definitely. But I’ve got you committed to hang out and do stuff tomorrow?”

 

                “Yeah,” Mickey said, laughing when Ian cheered and drummed on the bunk above Mickey. “Jesus, fuck off. Got a headache.”

 

                “Okay,” Ian said. “Alright. Tomorrow, after lunch?”

 

                “Yeah,” Mickey said, mostly to get Ian to stop bugging him. Or not? Mickey wasn’t sure anymore.

 

                “It’s a date!” Ian whooped. Mickey cringed at the word choice but he still agreed anyways.

 

-

 

                By the time he was going to lunch where he would sit with Ian, he still hadn’t come up with something to do with Ian. Instead, he’d jerked off thinking about the stupid redhead in his bed before he fell asleep and in the shower in the morning. He’d spent all morning stomping don his stupid feeling and working out his energy sexually.

 

                Ian sat next to him and their thighs brushed and Mickey made up his mind at last. He was going to do it and he was going to do it today.

 

                “Decide what you wanna do yet?” Ian asked. “I think the guys in the next cabin over are having a beach volleyball game later.”

 

                “Uh – no thanks,” Mickey said. He walked with Ian to dispose of their dishes. “I think I have an idea for what I wanna _do_ ,” he internally chortled at his own joke. “Can we talk about it in private?”

 

                “Sure,” Ian slung his bag over his shoulder and led the way outside. “I gotta switch off with Zac on the dock for lifeguard duty though so if you wanna talk you gotta walk.”

 

                Mickey agreed and followed along after Ian, more anxious than he’d ever felt before.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the terrible delay on this one. i'm just a bad person :)

          Any other day like this Mickey would have hid in his cabin or found somewhere shady outside to sit and smoke and hope no one caught him for it. He followed Ian out of the mess hall and he squinted the whole way as the sun attacked his eyes and probably started burning his skin. Summer was Mickey’s worst enemy and the sun was the absolute worst part for a pale-skinned creature like him.

 

          They stopped off at their cabin so Ian could grab his stuff for lifeguard duty and Mickey tried to talk to him there but he was chatty and busy, hurrying around and gathering up the stuff he needed and generally being very hard to talk to. They were back outside before Mickey knew it, walking to the dock to go swap off with another counsellor. Mickey felt like a little lost duckling trailing after Ian and trying to keep up with his longer strides.

 

          Ian took over for some overly-tanned white girl who had cut her lifeguard shirt into a crop top. Mickey wondered if Ian had a cut off shirt too and he felt himself getting more and more doomed by the second. The girl counsellor handed off her fanny pack (judging by the red cross on it, Mickey could hazard a guess that it might be a first aid kit) which Ian took. He set his bag down on the dock and bent down to open it and rifle through it, which Mickey tried to watch as subtly as possible.

 

          Ian straightened back up and yanked his shirt off, leaving Mickey to try not to drool all over the dock. Far too soon for Mickey’s taste, Ian pulled his own lifeguard top on. Mickey was disappointed to see that Ian hadn’t chosen to expose his abs, but he was mollified when he saw that Ian had cut the sleeves off his shirt. Light tanning (which was probably a burn first since Ian was _such_ a fucking ginger) brought out constellations of freckles over his shoulders and down his arms. He bent his arm at the elbow to put on his hat and a pair of sunglasses and Mickey eyed his bicep as it bulged.

 

          Ian grinned at Mickey where he stood squinting. “You want some sunscreen? You’re already looking a little red.”

 

          Yes, of course. He was red because of the sunburn. _Right_.

 

          “I’m good,” Mickey answered. He went to try and talk to Ian again but he interrupted him.

 

          “You wanna throw the football around with the other kids?” Ian asked, direction Mickey’s attention to a group of kids horsing around in the water, about waist deep and playing some variety of catch. He noted the group included Mandy and that made him want to join their game even less.

 

          “Nah, man, I just wanna talk to you,” Mickey said, though he was fairly certain Ian didn’t catch the end of his sentence since he’d turned to look at the group of girls who were hanging off the dock a little further down and chattering to each other. For one terrifying moment he existed in a world where Ian Gallagher might possible by straight but then Ian looked at him again.

 

          “Sorry, Mick. I’m really everywhere today. You wanted to talk to me?”

 

          _Yeah, just wanted to tell you you’re really fucking hot and we should start hooking up as soon as possible_ was what Mickey meant to say. He stammered out an ‘um’ before he was struck in the side of the head with something and yelped as he fell off the dock. Ian shouted and tried to catch him but he didn’t know what happened after that because he hit his head harder on something on the way down.

 

-

 

          When he came to, he registered two things: the sun was still fucking bright when he cracked his eyes open and his clothes were soaked through and sticking to him. The smokes in his pocket were probably ruined. Strong hands gripped his shoulder and rolled his torso, and like he was prompted he started coughing, hacking up water from his throat that hurt more than he’d realized at first.

 

          He tried to sit up but he was pushed back down despite his mumbled protests. He focused a bit more on his surroundings, and yeah, having Ian leaning above him reminded him way too much of some of the fantasies he’d been having lately. He felt warm and sluggish and horny and he hoped his fattening cock wasn’t too visible. Ian leaned over him again, blocking out the sun and creating a halo of sunlight tinged red by his stupid fucking hair.

 

          “I’m taking you to the nurse,” Ian told him and before Mickey could complain or try to stop him, Ian was scooping him up with an arm under his shoulders and another under his knees. He lifted Mickey like he was nothing and Mickey could almost lean in and sink his teeth into that bicep he’d been ogling earlier.

 

          “What happened?” Mickey mumbled, staring at Ian's muscular shoulders and arms.

 

          “Mandy hit you in the side of the head with a football,” Ian replied. “She said it was an accident but you probably know better than I do.”

 

          Mickey nodded like he was thinking deeply about it. “Then what?”

 

          “You hit your head on the dock and fell in the water. So I jumped in and pulled you to shore and gave you first aid and then you woke up.” Ian told him. Mickey thought about that and frowned.

 

          “Like... with your mouth?”

 

          “Yes,” Ian replied. “You weren’t breathing.”

 

          “So you kissed me?” Mickey asked as Ian carried him up the path to the infirmary.

 

          “No, it was purely professional. It was to save your l-“

 

          “Find some chill, Gallagher,” Mickey yawned, snuggling down in Ian’s arms. “I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me for real.”

 

          “I think you have a concussion. Do you feel nauseated?”

 

          “I don’t have a concussion. You’re just really hot and I wanna fuck you,” Mickey told him, voice firm and sure.

 

          Ian didn’t respond to that and Mickey knew he was hoping he’d take that as acknowledgment and stop saying things like that. But Mickey needed Ian to know, so he went on.

 

          “I’m serious,” he told Ian. “I want us to fuck in a bunch of different ways and I think you do too. You’re not supposed to act on it since you’re my counsellor and shit but I just want you to know I’m down to fuck.”

 

          “If you say so,” Ian said and Mickey would have kept talking at him but he was being placed on a hospital bed in the infirmary (when did they get here?). He saw Ian move away and he reached for him but something fucked up with his depth perception and he wasn’t even close. He watched Ian leave and tried not to get too offended when he didn’t even look back or wave or anything.

 

-

 

          After checking Mickey over what felt like fifty times to make sure he wouldn’t drop dead the second he walked out the door, the nurse gave him an ice pack and sent him on his way. He didn’t see Ian for the rest of the day even though he checked all their usual spots and he tried not to think too much about that. The guy was a counsellor, he was probably busy. Busy doing stuff like supervising campers and teaching them how to do shit like he usually did with Mickey.

 

          He could kill Mandy for hitting him in the head with the football and interrupting him from telling Ian in no uncertain terms that he wanted to bang him. When he thought back he remembered that he _had_ told Ian that. So the next time he saw Ian they could get down to business without all the talking and dancing around what they wanted. If Ian was any good with his dick Mickey would want a repeat performance and maybe he could become a regular hook-up and this summer camp wouldn’t be the worst time of his life.

 

          Mickey eyed Ian’s blanket-swaddled body in his bunk when he got back to their cabin after showering that night. He was so silent that Mickey thought he might be faking sleep but he didn’t know the guy’s sleep sounds well enough to say for sure. He must have been exhausted from being busy that day and he thought about waking Ian up to proposition him but he decided against it. He crawled into his own bunk instead and settled down to sleep. He’d track Ian down tomorrow and get some off him.

 

-

 

          Mickey was late to breakfast the next morning so he missed Ian then but he supposed breakfast with all the other boys from his cabin wasn’t the best place to talk about what he wanted to talk to Ian about. He wolfed down some oatmeal and a couple of the last sausages left from breakfast and then headed out to the archery range. Watching Ian do the Legolas thing for a little while would get him warmed up and good for a fuck.

 

          But Ian wasn’t at the range. There were a couple kids taking shots at the targets and missing spectacularly while some other counsellor supervised them. Mickey waited for a second to see if Ian would eventually show up to practice or to supervise, but after a few minutes he went back to his cabin with a huff.

 

          Ian wasn’t there, either, which didn’t surprise Mickey, and he moped around in his bunk for a bit and had a smoke behind the cabin before he set out again, hitting all the places where he usually saw Ian. He wasn’t by the lake and he wasn’t at the rock climbing wall and he wasn’t under any of the pavilions hanging out with kids.

 

          “Ay, you seen Gallagher?” Mickey asked Sanchez, a kid from his cabin who he vaguely recalled he sold coke to back at school, over lunch. The kid looked terrified that he was talking to him but he answered eventually.

 

          “I don’t know for sure man, but I think he took a bunch of kids out into the woods,” Sanchez replied.

 

          Mickey grimaced. “Fuck, really?”

 

          “Yeah,” Sanchez answered. “Portaging, or something.”

 

          “Shit,” Mickey mumbled. “Know when he’ll be back?”

 

          “They had tents,” Sanchez supplied and Mickey left him to his lunch then. By the sound of it, they’d be gone overnight. Shit. He’d be clawing at the walls for some dick pretty soon. He would just have to hope Ian came back the next day or he’d catch him then.

 

-

 

          The next day, Ian did come back. His shoulders and cheeks were sunburnt and he was frecklier than ever and Mickey wanted to take his clothes off and count all his other freckles. He was sitting at the table having dinner with the rest of the kids from their cabin and Mickey went over with his dinner and sat across from him. He’d sit next to him but his usual seat on Ian’s right was occupied by some other kid. He focused on not thinking about that.

 

          “Hey,” he said and Ian froze, looking up from his dinner to stare at Mickey. He looked down at his plate and poked at it. He mumbled a ‘hey’ and then the conversation of the other boys picked up around them again.

 

          Mickey ate his dinner and watched Ian push his pasta around his plate. He looking twitchy and anxious and he got up a few minutes after Mickey arrived, making some excuse about needing to do some admin stuff before he slipped away from their table. Mickey would have followed him if he wasn’t busy bitterly eating his spaghetti and being pissy about Ian.

 

          He noted that Ian wasn’t in his bunk when Mickey went to bed that night. He laid awake for a half an hour before he heard Ian come in and he felt the bunks shift as he got in bed. Ian didn’t try to start talking to him and so Mickey didn’t either. Before too long he heard Ian start snoring and he cursed, rolling over and aggressively trying to sleep.

 

-

 

          Ian woke him up when he got up and dressed for his daily jog-at-an-ungodly-hour and by the time he’d gotten his bearing and Ian had slipped out of the front door of their cabin silently, he’d decided what to do. He’d wait until Ian came back to get his shower stuff and then he’d follow him to the showers and confront him there. Best case scenario: shower sex. Worst: crushing humiliation and maybe a fight.

 

          What went wrong was that Ian punched Mickey in the jaw. He immediately apologized about seventy times once he realized who he’d hit so obviously he wasn’t _that_ mad at Mickey. He wrung his hands and eyed Mickey guiltily as he rubbed at the sore spot on his jaw. He’d probably have a bruise later and he internally reflected that it wasn’t the kind of bruise he wanted to get from Ian.

 

          “Sorry,” Ian said, making it seventy-one times. “You can’t sneak up on me like that.”

 

          “Yeah, now that I know you’ve got ninja fucking reflexes, I’ll knock or something next time,” Mickey grumbled. “Find some fuckin’ chill.”

 

          “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” Ian asked, and Mickey snorted. He certainly had. Ian looked sheepish. “And I’m not a ninja. I did junior ROTC all through high school.”

 

          “No shit?” Mickey asked, letting his eyes wander to take in Ian’s naked body. He’d almost forgotten about it until Ian mentioned that, bringing attention to his muscles. Unfortunately he’d had the reflexive tact to cover his dick. Tragic.

 

          “Yeah,” Ian replied. He saw where Mickey’s eyes had gone and shuffled over closer to the wall to reach past him to get his towel. Once he’d covered up (to Mickey’s disappointment) he went on. “I joined the army once I turned eighteen too... some things happened and I was declared unfit to serve.”

 

          “Really? The fuck did you do?”

 

          Ian grimaced. “I don’t want to talk about it. Why are you here?”

 

          “Want to talk to you,” Mickey replied.

 

          “I don’t really want to talk to you,” Ian said, staring at the floor. He moved to turn the shower off and went to get dressed. Mickey followed him and since Ian wasn’t starting the conversation, he did.

 

          “I just wanna hook up. Just once. Unless you want to do it again,” Mickey said with a haughty smirk. “I don’t want to be your fucking boyfriend or something.”

 

          “You... no. You shouldn’t want to fuck me and I _definitely_ shouldn’t want to fuck you!”

 

          “Well don’t you?”

 

          “...you’re underage, Mickey. _And_ I’m your guardian. Don’t you see how illegal and fucked-up that is?” Ian asked.

 

          “You’re only like three years older than me,” Mickey scoffed. “I’m almost sixteen.”

 

          “Sixteen isn’t legal, Mickey.”

 

          He rolled his eyes. “It’s not like it’d be my first time or anything. I’m not some blushing virgin.”

 

          “That’s... n-not relevant. It’s still against the rules,” Ian insisted.

 

          “Come _on_ , Gallagher. I’ve been breaking rules since I got here. You think they matter to me?” Mickey smirked at Ian’s flustered face as he fled into a bathroom stall with his backpack of clothes. “That excuse is weak as hell.”

 

          “It wouldn’t be right,” Ian insisted from inside the stall. “I’d be taking advantage of you.”

 

          “You’re fucking joking,” Mickey snorted. “Have you heard a word I said? I’m thirsty as hell and I want you for your dick. If anything, _I’d_ be taking advantage of _you_.”

 

          “That doesn’t matter,” Ian said and the lock of the bathroom stall clicked as he unlocked it and bustled out. He shoved his shower stuff in his bag and ranted at Mickey as he went. “I’m an adult and you’re underage. While you’re here I’m your legal guardian and don’t even get me started on how-“

 

          Mickey had heard enough. There was too much talking and not enough dicking going on right then so he took action. He stepped into the doorway to prevent Ian from leaving and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He noted smugly that he had to get on his toes and he felt all hot when he thought about Ian being bigger than him. He kissed Ian hard and he thought he detected a hint of pressure on Ian’s side and a tiny sound of pleasure from his throat, but a second later Ian was pushing him away with a hand pressed to his chest. He pried Mickey’s fingers free of his shirt and frowned, eyes a stormy green as he looked down at Mickey, then away.

 

          “I don’t want to have sex with you and you should stop trying,” Ian told him, cold and detached. Mickey thought about fighting him on it but he decided against it. He watched Ian leave, stubbornly keeping his posture relaxed and strides even to appear unaffected. Mickey could see through it, though.

 

          Ian could say whatever he wanted about not wanting to fuck Mickey, but he could tell that when Ian looked at him his anaconda _do_. Mickey figured Ian just needed to see what he was missing before he accepted it, so he took it upon himself to open Ian’s eyes the best way he could think of – by being a remorseless tease.


	5. Chapter 5

Ian put up a good fight in his courageous battle to not jump Mickey's bones. Really, he did. It was an effort to be commended, but Mickey was just too stubborn and thirsty to give up.

Mickey's first pass at Ian came later that same day when they sat down for lunch. Ian made the poor decision to leave the seat to his right free so when Mickey took it and automatically looked smug and devious he regretted everything he'd ever done.

Ian nearly choked on his grilled cheese when he felt Mickey's hand cupping his dick. He washed down the lump in his throat with juice and thanked his left-hand neighbour for making sure he was alright. He turned to give Mickey a dirty look to find him completedly unphased, quietly eating his lunch with the hand not rubbing Ian's dick.

"You alright, Gallagher?" Mickey (the little shit) asked, licking crumbs off his upper lip.

"Yeah," he choked. "I'm fine." He turned back to his lunch and tried to ignore Mickey's hand stroking and teasing at his through his pants. He would get up and move or tell Mickey to stop but he didn't want to give the brat the satisfaction of getting to him. He'd told Mickey he didn't want to fuck him and he'd be damned if he let a little bit of teasing make him into a liar.

At dinner that night he made sure to sit with someone on either side of him so Mickey couldn't sit next to him. Mickey looked a little disappointed but he settled in across from Ian anyways. Ian only needed to look at Mickey for a second to see him biting his lip and eyefucking him to know that this was almsot worse. He stared resolutely down at his plate and vowed not to look up at Mickey the whole meal.

He did pretty well at that and even manage to chat with the camper sitting next to him while they ate. Right as he was launching into a story about his ROTC history he choked on the word 'reprimanding' and dropped his food back on his plate. He reached his hand under the table as subtly as he could, fingers closing around the toe of Mickey's shoe and pushing it away from where it had been stroking up his calf. Mickey pulled his foot back and out of Ian's grasp and so Ian got back into talking to his neighbour.

A few minutes later Mickey was at it again but this time Ian's breath just hitched. Mickey had toed off his shoe under the table and traced the shape of Ian's fattening cock through his pants with his toes. His neighbour had started another conversation with someone else when Ian had stopped talking, thankfully, so he didn't notice Ian's flusteredness.

"Mickey," Ian hissed, turning to glare at the teen across the table from him. That was as far as Ian got in berating/threatening Mickey because he looked up to see Mickey essentially deep-throating his hot dog. He couldn't help staring for another moment during which Mickey kept intense eye contact with him while he sucked ketchup off his fingers slowly and deliberately.

Ian shoved at Mickey's foot and felt a bolt of satisfaction when he was jostled and nearly fell out his chair. Ian wolfed down the rest of his dinner before Mickey could touch his dick again and got to his feet. He told all the other guys he'd see them later and then left to drop his dishes off in the bin.

-

Mickey remained surprisingly distant for the next day or so. Ian was suspicious and sideeyed Mickey all the way through breakfast and lunch the next day and Mickey didn't even look at him, much less touch him. He was beginning to think that maybe Ian's perseverance in turning him down (barely. He didn't think he could have put up with another day of Mickey teasing him during meals before bending him over the table) had proven effective, and that Mickey had hopefully written it off as a loss.

By the time Mickey strolled up to him on the dock about an hour after lunch while he was working his lifeguard shift he was feeling relieved enough about him to grin and greet him.

"Hey Mick," he said, waving at him as he crossed the dock and stopped a little bit short of him.

"Gallagher," he greeted, nodding at him. "Gotta ask you for a favour."

"Yeah? What can I do for you?" Ian asked, happy enough that he didn't even edge towards being way of Mickey's change of heart. Bad decision.

"I wanna go swimming," Mickey said and Ian felt a surge of happiness that Mickey wanted to get involved with activities other than sulking and maybe even hang out with some of the other kids.

"Great! Jump right in," Ian said, enthusiastic as always.

"Well, you know. Don't wanna look like a lobster," Mickey said and when Ian didn't immediately clue in he went on. "Sunscreen or whatever? You have some, right?"

"Oh - uh, yeah," Ian looked down to root through his fanny back until he found the tube of sunscreen. He zipped up his fanny pack and looked back up at Mickey, promptly dropping the sunscreen when he saw Mickey standing shirtless before him for the first time.

He was pale, _so_ pale, and has such well-built shoulders that Ian felt weak. He didn't know how he didn't obsess over the possibility of Mickey having such a perfect upper body when he already drooled over Mickey's arms. He tried to reel it in before he started straight-up drooling. Except it was hard to miss the opportunity to check Mickey out since he'd literally never seen him topless before. He tried to be subtle but he probably came off fucking predatory.

It was just so hard not to ogle Mickey when he had such a tight torso. He let himself have one look over Mickey's perfect firm pecs and admired his fit but not terribly muscular midsection. His stomach looked soft and perfect and Ian thought about nuzzling at it and maybe sucking some bruises into it. He took another quick look and tried not to think about Mickey's hips which looked like they would fit in his hands so perfectly and... Ian really needed to look away now.

"Stare a little more, freak," Mickey said and if Ian hadn't looked up and seen his grin he would have thought Mickey was actually making fun of him, malicious intent and all.

"Not my fault the sun reflects off your pasty chest," Ian mumbled and Mickey laughed and they were all good until Mickey spotted the tube of sunscreen that Ian had dropped and he turned and bent over to grab it.

To say Mickey's ass was hypnotic was a damn understatement and when his swim shorts rode down Ian felt like he was going to fall to his knees in worship. Mickey snagged the sunscreen off the dock and straightened back up just in time to see Ian staring at him.

"Jesus, dial it back Gallagher," he said. "People are gonna think you wanna fuck me or something."

"W-well people would be inappropriate if they thought that," Ian rushed to stammer out; "And wrong." Mickey just smirked at Ian didn't continue, so Ian snatched the sunscreen out of Mickey's hands. "Turn around and I'll do your back. You can manage the rest yourself, right?"

"The first part of that was hot and then you just got fuckin' cranky," Mickey said, turning so his back faced Ian. Ian squirted some sunscreen into his palm and tried to focus on the task at hand instead of admiring Mickey's muscular shoulders and the adorable dimples above his ass.

"There. You should be good now," Ian said, stepping back after he spent some time willing his dick to go down. "Just make sure to apply it generously to any other exposed skin and if you feel faint, find some shade and drink some water."

"Wow, talk dirty to me," Mickey mumbled, taking the sunscreen off Ian when he passed it off to him. When Ian clearly didn't seem interested in saying anything else to him, he took the tube and left to go sit in the shade and smoke grumpily.

-

Things were uneventful after that but Ian didn't let himself think that maybe he'd given up on something. He needed to be on his guard for Mickey's next seduction attempt. Ian ate at the table with a bunch of the other counsellors just to be safe and didn't even look over at the table where Mickey was sitting eating with his cabin mates.

He went to sleep early feeling pretty good about himself and didn't wake up until low sound started him awake. He laid there fo a moment and didn't hear it again so he passed it off as weird snoring and settled back down to go back to sleep. As he was drifting off he was distantly conscious of the bunk shaking which fell into a very particular rhythm that reminded him of... oh. Oh, _Jesus_.

Mickey was masturbating. He was getting himself off and Ian could hear him and he couldn't help but imagine everything. Mickey laid out on his back, one hand stroking his cock and the other feeling himself up. Ian mashed his pillow over his head to try and block out the noise but the shaking of the bunk proved to be too much for him.

Ian threw the blankets off himself and climbed down off of his own bunk. He pointedly avoided looking at the bottom bunk where Mickey was jerking off as he put his jacket on and pushed his feet into his shoes. He nearly tripped on one of his laces on the way to the door in his rush to get away from Mickey. He stumbled and caught himself on the doorframe and made the unwise decision to look frantically back to make sure Mickey hadn't noticed him.

Looking back towards their bunk was the biggest mistake Mickey had ever made in his life. It took him a moment to figure out what exactly Mickey was doing with both hands in his dick area (probably an indication that he did more than just glance at Mickey - more like full-on _stared_ ) but once he did he rushed out the door and probably closed it too loudly because Mickey was _fingering himself_ and that was a visual Ian could not deal with. He couldn't think about Mickey groaning as he fucked himself or about him being a size queen and needing most of his fingers in order to have a satisfying orgasm. He especially didn't need to think about Mickey biting the pillow to stifle his noises because spit's not the best lube and so his fingers burn as they drag on his rim and they wouldn't if Ian was taking care of him because Ian would rim him for like twenty minutes and maybe make him come like that and then he'd be all slick and stretched and ready for Ian's-

No. He couldn't be thinking about Mickey like that and he sure as fuck couldn't jerk off thinking about him.

He hurried to the bathroom and stripped quickly, turning the water in the shower as cold as it would go before stepping under the spray. He hoped the cold water would sttamp down his arousal but it only half-worked. His erection went away but he was still horny as hell and couldn't get the image of Mickey fucking himself out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

Exhausted and defeated, Ian leaned one arm against the cool tile wall of the shower and pressed his forehead to it, reaching down with his other hand to curl it around his dick which was impressively hard again despite the cold shower.

Once he'd jerked off quickly and his spunk had rinsed down the drain he air-dried as best he could and pulled his pyjamas back on over his wet skin. He went back to the cabin and ignored Mickey (who seemed to have fallen into a cozy little post-orgasm sleep. How nice) and climbed into his bunk.

He fell asleep soon after that and the next morning he took the seat next to Mickey at breakfast and nearly fell asleep face-first in his plate of pancakes.

"Rough night?" Mickey asked like the smut little shit that he was. A couple of the other guys seemed concerned as well and Ian just brushed it off.

"Just couldn't get to sleep. I'll be alright," he assured them and they mostly left him alone for the rest of the meal. After they'd cleared off their table Ian headed off to the bathroom and heard Mickey's soft footfalls behind him. Ian went around the side of the building and when Mickey turned the corner he rounded on him.

"Mickey, I'm done with your shit," he growled and before Mickey could make some salacious comment he grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him against the wall. "Don't fucking talk. That stunt last night was the last straw."

"What stunt?" Mickey asked, eyebrows arching in some corrupted bastardization of an innocently curious expression.

"You know damn well what you did and it's ending today," Ian declared. "Meet me behind the archery shed after lights out so I can put an end to this bullshit you're pulling."

"Why can't we talk about it here?" Mickey asked, maybe a little bit worried now. Ian was always so gently and relaxed and Mickey was a bit intimidated by this change in him.

"Because if I beat the shit out of you here and now, people might see and I might get arrested," Ian replied, giving Mickey one final rough shove against the wall. Mickey reached for Ian, a soft brush against his hip, and he stepped back. "Touch me again and I'll end you," he told Mickey, voice low and dangerous. "In a non-criminal way," he added. "Tonight. Midnight, behind the archery shed," he said in parting before he took off around the corner and leaving Mickey to slide down the side of the building to sit there in shock.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been more than a month and a half since i updated this but a couple weeks ago i was in a car accident and i haven't been able to write much since i can't type :( but i got it done so here it is! all that's left is the epilogue which i'd like to have done in a week or so but idk how that'll go. sorry again for the wait!

                To say Mickey was nervous that day would be an understatement. His day dragged on and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t focus on anything. He knew he could definitely hold his own in a fight against some regular garden variety douchebag but Ian had been in the army and he had random skills like Legolas-level archery and stuff. Who knew what other skills he had? Mickey was especially conflicted because he didn’t want to get his ass kicked but for the first time in his life he didn’t _want_ to kick someone else’s ass either.

 

                Speaking of Ian, after their altercation beside the bathroom the redhead had made himself mysteriously scarce. Mickey didn’t exactly go looking for Ian but he did keep an eye out for him as he wandered around. He didn’t see him at any of the activity stations or in their cabin, and even during lunch and dinner Mickey couldn’t find him in the mess hall at all. Mickey couldn’t help but imagine Ian spending the day putting together the ultimate punishment to put Mickey in his place and deter him from his mission. His imagination made Ian seem too much like some devious supervillain and so he shook the image from his head.

 

                The worst thing was that Mickey wasn’t even sure what he was nervous about. The day was dragging on and he wished it would hurry up and end but at the same time he didn’t want to have to face Ian but he also _missed_ him and wanted to see him again. This whole ‘having a crush’ thing (because that’s what it was; there was no use denying it anymore) was bullshit. It was making him do stupid stuff and think stupid stuff. Stupid Gallagher.

 

                Lunch passed and then dinner and Mickey was still anxious. Even Mandy noticed when she sat down next to him at dinner.

 

                “Fuck off,” Mickey mumbled, curling an arm around his plate of spaghetti to protect it from Mandy despite her having no reason to steal his since she had a plate of her own.

 

                “What’s wrong?” she asked, picking at her plate and eyeing Mickey through her eyelashes. “You’re all twitchy.”

 

                “ _Fuck off_.”

 

                “And _bitchy_. You run out of smokes or something?” Mandy narrowed her eyes at Mickey who tried to look less nervous. “Or are you on something?”

 

                “Trying to cut back on the smokes,” Mickey lied since it would be the easier of Mandy’s guesses to sell. If he took something, Mandy would get on his case wanting to know where he got it so she could get some on her own and then it would be a pain in the ass. “I’m afraid to run out so I’m only having one when I really need it.”

 

                Mandy looked skeptical but eventually shrugged and nodded. “Maybe if you get in the habit you’ll keep it up when we go home. Could save a lot of money.”

 

                “Yeah whatever. You done fuckin’ interrogating me?”

 

                Mandy narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “Alright,” she said, finally starting to eat her spaghetti with intent. “So you looking to get laid? Angie’s asking about you and it’d be doing me a huge favour if you’d just fuck her so she’ll shut the fuck up.”

 

                Mickey cringed. “Oh, fuck no.” He swirled some pasta on his fork and shoved the ball into his mouth. “I got _standards_ , Mands,” he muffled out through a disgusting mouthful of food.

 

                “I somehow doubt that, but alright. She’s gonna keep asking.” Mandy sneered at him. “Ew, chew with your mouth shut, you fucking pig.”

 

                Mickey stuck his tongue out to show her a wad of chewed-up spaghetti and she shrieked and fled his table.

 

-

 

                Mickey played games on his phone until quarter to twelve and then went out to have a smoke before he walked over to the archery shed to confront his destiny or whatever. He leaned off the side wall of his cabin and crushed his cigarette butt out under his shoe before he shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged off.

 

                He stuck to the shadows beside the buildings whenever he could because strictly speaking he wasn’t supposed to be awake much less up and out of his cabin. He only had one close call – he’d had to duck behind one of the shadowed sides of the rock-climbing wall, pressed flat against it and not daring to breathe until the pair of counsellors on duty passed by and continued on towards the mess hall.

 

Before long he was at the archery shed and with a quick glance at his phone he realized he was a few minutes early. He lit up another smoke and waited Ian out, watching the sparse clouds drift across the starless sky. Even though he felt like the camp was so far away from the city he still couldn’t see any stars. Even here the light polluted the sky and obscured them. The moon was the only light in the sky – not quite full but still big enough to reflect off the surface of the lake.

 

“This isn’t a designated smoking area,” Ian said, effectively jarring Mickey from his not-stargazing.

 

“I’m not exactly fuckin’ afraid of punishment, in case you hadn’t noticed. Especially not when I know you’re already gonna kick my ass.” Mickey’s voice was steadier than he felt and he was glad for that.

 

“You got in trouble on purpose, right? After that first time, because you thought they’d assign me to supervise you and you’d get to spend more time with me.” He let out a long whistle. “You got it bad, man.”

 

“Fuck off,” Mickey growled, finishing off his smoke and flicking the butt to the ground. He ground it out with his heel and turned to face Ian. It was pathetic how he felt drawn to him even as he posed such a threat; as if magnetically. He tried not to be effected by that attraction now. “Don’t fucking run your mouth. Just hurry the fuck up and let’s get this over with.”

 

“What, exactly?” Ian asked. “What did you come here _for_? You didn’t have; no one _made_ you come here.”

 

“I _never_ back down from a challenge,” Mickey argued. “You don’t fuck with the Milkoviches or you get fucked with back.”

 

“Nice word choice,” Ian said with a smirk. “Though I think it’s less than that. I think you came out here because I _told_ you to and you like me so much that you didn’t want to disappoint me or disobey me.”

 

Shame flooded through Mickey and he felt younger than he had in years. He hoped the moonlight and the yellow light above the door to the shed wouldn’t betray his flush. Bugs swarmed around the light and he felt hot with anger. “So I’m a stupid fucking kid with a crush on a stupid fucking counsellor! Is that what you fucking wanted to hear before you beat the shit out of me?”

 

Ian laughed and Mickey wanted to hit him. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Mickey... not in a way you wouldn’t like, at least.”

 

Mickey narrowed his eyes.

 

“You won,” Ian told him. He stepped in closer to Mickey, who backed up towards the wall and soon ran out of space at his back. Ian pressed against Mickey, and Mickey told himself that it was just Ian pressing the air out of his chest that made him breathless. Mickey must have looked confused and a little scared because Ian went on. “I want to fuck you. If you still want me to, of course.”

 

“You... what?”

 

“I can’t resist you any longer.” He laughed. “You played some dirty fucking tricks to get me to this point, but congrats. It worked.” Mickey seemed frozen on the spot, though he felt like he was burning up with the sudden blast of arousal he felt at Ian’s confession. Ian took the initiative then, one hand coming up to cup Mickey’s jaw and tip his chin back. He met Mickey halfway, pressing their lips together, but it was Mickey who came back to himself and deepened the embrace.

 

                His shaking hands settled on Ian’s body, one on his bicep and the other on his side below his ribcage. The second hand clutched at Ian’s shirt. When Mickey pressed back Ian’s hands went to his hips then slid back to grope his ass and the back of his thighs. He lifted Mickey’s legs up in one surprisingly smooth move and Mickey took the cue, clutching at Ian’s hips with his thighs.

 

                By the time they stopped kissing Mickey was gasping against Ian’s lips, begging for his cock. “Not yet,” Ian told him quietly, still pressing kisses to Mickey’s mouth, the space between them humid and close. “There’s so much shit I want to do to you, I can’t decide.”

 

                “Fuckin’ _anything_ ,” Mickey demanded, fingers of one hand finding Ian’s hair and tugging him down for more kissing. Ian got distracted, sighing into Mickey’s mouth for another moment before he held him against the wall by his shoulders.

 

                “Turn around,” Ian breathed after pressing one last kiss to Mickey’s begging lips, turning him so he faced the wall. “Find something to hold onto.” Ian warned him, dropping to his knees and yanking Mickey’s pants down.

 

                Mickey went rigid against the wall the first time Ian bit at one supple ass cheek and his knees were shaking by the time Ian delivered the first firm lick to his hole. He scratched at the painted surface of the shed wall with his fingers and bit down on the heel of his hand to keep quiet. He wanted to be loud and obscene and fucking _filthy_ for Ian but he didn’t want to risk someone hearing them.

 

                Ian worked him over until he was crying, torn between pushing back onto Ian’s tongue and fingers and cringing away from the overwhelming pleasure. He didn’t have much longer to deliberate because Ian made the choice for him – he got to his feet and pressed Mickey a bit harder against the wall and slipped two fingers into his slick entrance.

 

                Mickey had the presence of mind to snort with laughter when he heard Ian ripping open a condom with his teeth. “Ain’t that contraband?” he snickered. “Bad boy.”

 

                “Better safe than sorry. I wasn’t counting on not hooking up with another counsellor when I was packing for this,” Ian explained. “Never thought I’d get mixed up with a little cockslut of a camper like you, but here we are.” He kept fingering Mickey open as he gave his little speech, and Mickey found it hard to focus. “Besides, I don’t know where you’ve been or who’s been in you.”

 

                “Ay, save the safe-sex talk for someone who gives a shit,” Mickey said, sparing himself from getting called a slut in any blunter terms. “Not like you’re a fucking blushing virgin either. I’m all for wrapping it up.”

 

                “Good boy,” Ian said and Mickey tried not to think too hard about the flutter of pride and pleasure he felt when he heard that. He heard the slick sound of Ian rolling on the rubber and then felt the latex-covered shaft press at his hip when Ian pushed him against the wall again.

 

                “Wanna do it facing you,” Mickey mumbled, trying to roll his body against the wall. Until Ian gave him room he couldn’t move much, but then he turned to face Ian and flattened himself back against the wall, smirking up at him. Ian paused, looking Mickey over and the younger boy felt unnerved under his hungry gaze. Mickey tore his eyes from Ian’s and reached down to stroke his own cock a few times, to take the feverish edge off his arousal and Ian seemed to snap out of his trance then.

 

                “Kick your pants off,” Ian told him, tone so firm it sent shivers down Mickey’s spine and he felt obliged to comply. He had to toe off his shoes to do it, but soon enough he was leaning against the wall in nothing but his t-shirt and his socks and Ian was mostly-clothed, with his pants undone just enough for his cock to be out and Mickey didn’t know why that turned him on so much but it did.

 

                Ian sandwiched him against the wall again and lifted his legs up around his waist. Mickey complied eagerly, hitching his legs high on Ian’s hips and rocking down on his dick where he felt it against the underside of his thigh.

 

                “Hold on,” Ian murmured and Mickey yelped when Ian used one of the hands that had been holding him to guide his dick to press into him. Mickey’s legs tightened around Ian’s waist and his ankles crossed at the small of his back. He clutched at Ian’s shoulders and gnawed at his lip to keep in his sounds when Ian eased into him. Ian buried his face in the side of Mickey’s neck, kissing and breathing curses into his skin.

 

                Ian let out a shaky breath when he was fully sheathed in Mickey and Mickey gave a soft laugh. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, tilting his head back against the wall and letting the starless sky fill his field of view. Ian mouthed at his exposed throat and called his attention back to him, to them, to how they were joined and Mickey became distracted by the constellations on Ian’s face.

 

                Then Ian started moving and Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off him, transfixed by his passion and the heat of his body. Ian was big and Mickey could feel ever inch of him, filling him and then dragging back out. He had hooked up with a handful of guys before, in back alleys behind clubs on his rare trips to Boystown when he got particularly desperate and once with one of the guys Mandy brought to the house but he’d never loved every second of getting fucked like he did with Ian. They weren’t big enough and they weren’t strong enough and they weren’t _Ian_.

 

                The little things were like an eternity but the act itself was over faster than Mickey would have liked. He couldn’t blame either of them for it of course, given how much they’d both been waiting for this, but he promised himself they would do it again. He came untouched for this first time in his life and made a mess of Ian’s shirt in the process, which Ian laughed at after but waved off. He definitely enjoyed Mickey’s flush when he realized what he’d done.

 

                “I’m taking it as a compliment,” Ian teased as he helped Mickey clean up and get dressed again. “And a sign that you’ll want to do it again.”

 

                Mickey snorted. “Are you fucking kidding? You’re gonna have to wean me off you by the end of the summer.”

 

                “Don’t wanna think about that,” Ian said, stooping down to kiss Mickey as he zipped up his jeans. “Whenever you want, whatever you want. I wasn’t kidding when I said I can’t resist you.”

 

                “You’re gonna get yourself in some deep fucking shit if you keep talking like that.” Mickey said, smirking up at him, eyebrow cocked.

 

                “Yeah, tell me about it,” Ian said, with no small amount of guilt.

 

-

 

                Before dinner Mickey found a note under his pillow like he usually did these days. _behind the mess hall, 11,_ it read, and Mickey grinned as he shoved it into the side pocket of his duffel bag with all the others he’d accumulated over the past few weeks. He went off to dinner then and traded heated glances with Ian from across the table for the entire meal. They had popsicles after and Mickey sucked on his like he sucked on Ian’s dick and Ian didn’t take his eyes off him for a second.

 

                Mickey made good on his teasing later, dropping to his knees as soon as Ian arrived and sucking his brain out through his dick. After Ian returned the favour they settled down on the grass, their backs leaned against the back wall of the mess hall. Ian threw his arm around Mickey’s shoulders and Mickey lit a cigarette and they shared it. They exchanged kisses as they passed the cigarette back and forth and touched absentmindedly as they recovered enough for a second round.

 

                “So,” Ian started. “Going home tomorrow.”

 

                “Ugh, don’t remind me,” Mickey muttered. “Back to living with my dad and going to school.”

 

                Ian laughed. “Yeah, high school is bullshit.” He let that sit and linger between them for a moment before he tried at nonchalance when he asked; “So uh... would you want to maybe hang out or something when we get back to the neighbourhood?”

 

                Mickey looked at him like he was a moron. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”

 

                “Well – I – I mean, if you don’t want to that’s fine,” he shrugged. “I can just leave you alone, it’s cool. I’m cool.”

 

                “No you’re not,” Mickey snorted. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Gallagher. I assumed we would keep doing this when we got back home.” When Ian looked at him like he was so in love it hurt, Mickey shrugged it off. “We got a good fucking thing going. Why stop?”

 

                Ian could think of a few reasons but he didn’t voice any of them. Instead, he grinned and plucked the nearly-dead smoke from between Mickey’s fingers. He sucked it down to the filter, flicked it aside, and slapped at Mickey’s thigh. “Hands and knees. Gonna eat you out till you’re begging and then fuck you till you’re crying.”

 

                “That’s more like it, Gallagher,” Mickey said, pulling Ian into a filthy kiss before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also some smut. hope u enjoy and sorry for the ten month wait lol


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end :') i'm so happy

                Summer camp was bullshit and so was Ian for still working there. It had been six years since he had met Mickey – about six years more than he should have been content doing this shit. They had been fucking casually for a year or so after that first summer and not long after that he sort of just... moved in... with Ian? It wasn’t some big official decision; he just spent enough time at Ian’s place that it was really not worth it for him to go home at all. So one day, he just didn’t, and they hadn’t looked back.

 

Ian was still chipper as ever when he left Mickey all alone for two months with nothing more than a kiss and a promise to call every couple of days. Mickey would snort and roll his eyes because he knew better than to think he’d keep that promise after this long. Ian got busy and forgot so Mickey usually only got a call once a week or so. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Ian always called from the public phone in the camp office so they couldn’t even get up to any _adult conversation_. Or... Mickey could try and then get hung up on by a stammering Ian. Something about not wanting the kids to see him with a boner. Mickey just called it disappointing.

 

                So Mickey couldn’t even get any verbal action for two months during which he wasted away the days at his shitty job as an after-dark janitor for a few different restaurants in the city. He spent his whole shift praying that that would be the night that Ian would feel adventurous and call after lights-out for old time’s sake. He never did and Mickey curled up alone in their bed night after night.

 

                The second summer after Ian and Mickey properly got together and Mickey was stuck feeling like an army wife, Mandy ‘solved’ the problem by getting Mickey a cat. It was a fuzzy little squashed-faced orange creature that apparently looked like someone’s cat from Harry Potter, so Ian, being the giant nerd that he is, named it Crookshanks. Mickey never called it that though, preferring the call of varieties of different insults instead. It didn’t respond to any names anyways so Mickey figured it didn’t really matter.

 

                The thing was meant to keep him company but seeing that it had next to no interest in actually being near him Mandy had failed that objective. It mostly slept under the bed or the couch all day and only emerged when it was time to eat or use the litterbox. He was a useless little ginger shitlet and the only reason they didn’t try to find another home for the thing was because it absolutely adored Ian and the feeling was mutual. As one might imagine this created problems seeing as Ian was away from the house for two months of the year but they made it work. (A couple times over the summer Mickey would threaten to drop the thing off on Mandy’s doorstep and let her find in a new home but Ian would always say something along the lines of ‘if that cat isn’t there when I come home you’re not going to get any dick until Christmas.’ Mickey grumbled a little (a lot) but always let it drop.)

 

                When it came time for Ian to come back home Mickey had to get his shit together. He moved from one end of the apartment to the other like a cleaning tornado, straightening everything up and making it look like he’d actually kept the place clean in Ian’s absence and hadn’t lived on take-out and frozen food the whole time. He finished cleaning and took out the garbage, then hopped in the shower and scrubbed himself down. He took a little extra time to get ready and once he’d finished he got dressed in his best-fitting jeans and one of Ian’s shirts. Then he slumped down on the couch and watched cooking shows until he heard the keys in the front door lock.

 

                He tiptoed across the living room to the front door so Ian wouldn’t hear his footsteps. The second the door swung open Mickey was on Ian, pulling him in by the front of his shirt and getting on his toes to kiss him. His surprised sound turned quickly into a hum of pleasure and he dropped his bag to the floor so he could put both arms around Mickey’s waist.

 

                There was no way to describe what Mickey did then aside from saying that he climbed Ian like a fucking tree. Ian answered him by holding him tight, letting Mickey hang off him like a lemur. His big hands grabbed Mickey’s ass and their kiss broke with twin groans.

 

                “Hey,” Ian said softly, leaning their temples together.

 

                “Don’t give me that shit. Get on me. Now,” Mickey panted, giving Ian’s hips a squeeze with his thighs before he climbed down and tugged Ian properly into the apartment by his belt loops.

 

                Ian kicked his bag in and out of the way and then closed the door behind them, flicking the deadbolt locked. He let Mickey pull him into the living room and shove him down on their couch. He eagerly accepted Mickey when he clambered into his lap, hands falling to his hips and holding him there.

 

                “Where’s Crookshanks?” Ian asked, clearly distracted as Mickey kissed his neck.

 

                “Probably asleep under the bed,” Mickey told him, sitting back to tug Ian’s bright green camp shirt over his head. It wasn’t the best green on him – that was khaki green – but it made his hair look extra red. Mickey growled when Ian remained distracted by thinking about the cat and didn’t do anything to help Mickey strip him. “Why aren’t you naked yet?”

 

                “Have you fed her?” Ian asked, turning to look over his shoulder towards their bedroom door as if he expected to sense his cat’s peril through the door.

 

                “Yes,” Mickey gripped Ian by the chin and pulled him back in so he faced him. “Get your head in the game, Gallagher.”

 

                “I’m just worried. I haven’t seen her in two months, you can’t really blame me,” Ian said.

 

                “... you haven’t seen _me_ in two month,” Mickey reminded him. He pulled Ian in for another kiss, victorious when him relaxing under him. He slid a hand down and cupped Ian’s erection, which he was pleased to feel. When they parted he breathed against Ian’s lips. “The cat’ll still be there when I’m done with you.”

 

                “And what exactly do you have planned for me?” Ian asked, flirty in a way that Mickey was sure meant he definitely wasn’t worrying about the cat now.

 

                “Take your fucking clothes off and you’ll find out,” Mickey barely finished his sentence when Ian was pushing him over on the couch so he could strip his own pants off. He laid back against the couch and kicked off his pants and boxers. When Mickey climbed back in his lap he tried to shove him over and get back on top but Mickey stopped him, pinning him firmly against the back of the couch and giving him a look.

 

                “Don’t move,” Mickey said, slowly getting to his feet and stripped off the shirt he’d taken from Ian’s dresser and the jeans he knew Ian loved. He left the clothes on the floor and returned to Ian’s lap completely naked. He lined their dicks up and rutted them together.

 

                “Shit,” Ian sighed, tilting his head to the side when Mickey went back to kissing and biting his throat. Ian had the presence of mind to wet a pair of fingers before reaching them around Mickey’s hip and down to his asshole. He groaned when he was able to slip the two digits into him with little resistance.

 

                “You got started without me,” Ian commented, fingering Mickey until the other man grabbed his arm and pulled at him until he stopped. His hand went back to gripping Mickey’s hip.

 

                “You might not have noticed because you were too busy thinking about the fucking cat, but I’m trying to get on your dick,” Mickey said, sitting up on his knees and reaching under himself to line up Ian’s dick. He started to sink down and when he spoke again his voice was breathy and tense. “Not my fault you took so fuckin’ long to catch up.”

 

                “I’ll show you ‘catching up,’” Ian murmured, squeezing Mickey’s hips and bucking up into him. Mickey rode Ian hard and Ian rocked up into him at an increasingly feverish pace. Ian came first and jerked Mickey off to compensate, pushing up into him even as his cock softened and every thrust was a painful degree of sensation.

 

                “You’re on top next round,” Mickey said once he’d managed to catch his breath. He remained slumped on top of Ian on the couch, still full of cock and practically purring in contentment.

 

                “Yeah, just let me check on the cat and I’m all yours,” Ian teased and Mickey clung to him immediately. Ian sucked in a breath when Mickey’s body tensed around him.

 

                “No fuckin’ way,” Mickey insisted. “You were gone for two months. I’m not letting you go again.”

 

                “Until next summer,” Ian said.

 

                “Yeah, don’t remind me,” Mickey sighed and Ian kissed him then, smirking against his boyfriend’s lips as he thought of how he’d given his resignation notice and would never hand to remind Mickey about him leaving for the summer ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnd that's it! thanks to everyone who stuck with me for this fic which definitely took me longer than it should have. oops. but yeah, hope you enjoyed this at least a little bit :) thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: i had to make some small changes to chapter one to make it work with how i want chapter two to roll. it's just that ian and mickey bond over being from the same neighbourhood and it's pretty important that neither know it before chapter two. so yes, a couple small changes have been made.


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